


Punches

by poisonbite01



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: M/M, Martial Arts, inspired by Cavatica's awesome stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonbite01/pseuds/poisonbite01
Summary: Mertil picks up martial arts, and Menderash finds this REALLY interesting





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cavatica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavatica/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Unraveling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820154) by [Cavatica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavatica/pseuds/Cavatica). 
  * Inspired by [Unraveling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820154) by [Cavatica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavatica/pseuds/Cavatica). 



> [Acavatica's Time Meta is amaaaazing.](http://acavatica.tumblr.com/post/156232717687/andalite-time-meta) If you don't feel like doing the math, 76 Andalite Days is equivalent to 190 Earth Days.
> 
>  
> 
> [This is my headcanon about Andalite Tail Anatomy](http://taekwondorkjosh.tumblr.com/post/155888568257/meta-about-andalite-tail-anatomy-andalite)

_The Intrepid’s_ latest mission had been a… harrowing one. A rebel Yeerk faction stole several fighters and took refuge on a planet that had remained neutral in the Great War. Prince Aximili was ordered by high command to “deal with it,” and he had done so. Unfortunately, negotiations tookn time and the distance had made it difficult for Menderash to maintain his activity in the Peace Front. The moment _The Intrepid_ came into range, he started on his backlog, all seventy six days of it.

What he found was equal parts confusing, amusing, and exhilarating.

~~~

_The Intrepid_ landed in Los Angeles, but Menderash left right after landing.In one of the ship’s fighters, he flew north and towards Mertil’s current coordinates until somewhere west of the Cascade Mountains he spotted Mertil’s new scoop and his fighter. The scoop was dug out of the side of a large hill, and an area had been cleared and flattened that was just large enough for two fighters to rest side-by-side. Menderash was not nearly as good of a pilot as Mertil, but he put the fighter down next to Mertil’s with no trouble, and stepped out of the fighter and into the crisp, late-spring, Washington air.

Menderash approached the scoop, calling out to Mertil but receiving no reply. He climbed the steep, hard-packed ramp into the home and blinked slowly at the number of new additions to Mertil’s residence. There was an odd apparatus of pulleys, weights, and handles in one corner, a wooden construction on the wall opposite the scoop’s entrance, and Mertil’s familiar computer work station against the remaining wall. He spotted a few other intriguing apparatuses and machines, but the wooden… thing drew his attention.

It was a wooden post about 30 centimeters across and rose up to an Andalite’s head height. The post was mounted on a pair of horizontal slats attached to the wall of the scoop. At shoulder height, two tapered arms jutted out at an angle while a third was secured just below them and pointing straight forward. Two bent pieces of wood were mounted on it further down, pointing out and almost touching the ground. Mounted on a third slat above the wooden dummy was a curved piece of wood that came down far enough that if Menderash got too close it would have prodded him in the face or a stalk eye. From a certain angle, the whole thing looked like an abstracted statue or dummy of an Andalite.

He let out a curious snort and let his stalk eyes wander. One of them lingered on the large machine in one corner of the scoop, and he finally recognized it as a weight-training device. The other drifted over to Mertil’s computer console, though both stalk eyes snapped around towards the entrance of the scoop when he heard the sound of hooves pounding across the grass.

After a moment, the hooves slowed to a trot, and Mertil’s public thought-speak shouted out.

<Hello?> Mertil’s voice was alert and curious, but he didn’t sound threatened. Mertil had recognized the craft as one of _The Intrepid’s_ complement, and figured someone had been sent to brief him. While he was hoping for a good run and a proper night’s sleep, he could humor whoever was sent for a short time. He clambered up the ramp and his eyes widened at the sight of Menderash standing in his scoop, gesturing to the wooden dummy on his wall with a single upturned hand.

<So you’ve been spending half of an Earth Year… hitting a piece of wood?> Menderash’s familiar voice and teasing made Mertil break into a grin for a moment before he pulled the smile back and turned it into an expression of feigned haughtiness.

<Its more complicated than that, but if you wanted to diminish the activity as much as possible, then yes. I spent a year hitting a piece of wood. But this piece of wood is a human training tool that has been used for almost three of their millennia to turn their bodies into dangerous weapons.>

Menderash tilted his head and twisted an eye-stalk, the Andalite equivalent of a dismissive shrug, and then looked back at the piece of wood in question with his main eyes. He rattled one of the arms, which made an obnoxious clacking sound, while Mertil slung off the satchel he was carrying and set it at the edge of his scoop. Mertil rotated his shoulder; the cheap bag’s strap had cut off the circulation in his arm. It was an almost forty-five Earth minute jog to Seattle, and while the run was great for warming up before his classes it was murder on his sore torso on the way back. He massaged his aching shoulder while moving up to stand by Menderash and the wooden dummy.

<I’ve only spent about a third of that time engaged with the _Mook Yan Jong_. > Mertil used the specific emphasis Andalites used when saying names, but Menderash’s translator recognized the phrase as Cantonese. <The rest was divided between training with humans and a rigorous fitness routine.>

Menderash turned a stalk eye back to Mertil at that, and he properly noted the impressive definition of the muscles in his arms, chest, and where his torso met his waist. Mertil had also let his fur grow in far more than he ever had while living in Santa Barbara, and the lush fur looked better maintained than before. Menderash’s appraising stalk eye did nothing to hide his obvious interest in Mertil’s new physique, and Mertil shifted his weight on his hooves and moved his tail stump about in slight embarrassment.

Mertil had always been in good shape, but since crashing on Earth he had seriously neglected keeping up on the routine he and Gafinilan had been on. With Gaf’s failing health, he hadn’t been able to keep on it even if Mertil had wanted to, and after his passing Mertil had put everything he had into writing and the Peace Front. While he’d never gotten flabby or weak, he was definitely in better shape now than he’d been for the last few years, probably better shape than he’d ever been in.

Mertil sniffed sharply and thought-spoke a little louder than necessary, clearly trying to shift attention away from his body.

<So I take it _T_ _he Intrepid_ has returned safely but suffered some damage to the communication systems? I assume that you, the esteemed communications engineer you are, would have sent an alert about your arrival otherwise. >

Menderash caught the deflection and started to shift his attention to a new topic, but the backhanded compliment made him lift his chin and tail blade with curiosity. It was a common flirting tactic among Andalites, and it usually took several passes at Mertil to get him to join in on their lighthearted back-and-forth, but if Mertil was getting into it early... Menderash moved a bit closer, flank almost brushing against Mertil’s, and he let his eyes flit obviously over Mertil’s well-defined arms, shoulder, and back.

<If I told you we were coming back, you may have invested too much of your time into preparing for your role as a reporter. I didn’t want to distract you from your _very_ important studies. >

Mertil didn’t step away from the other Andalite, but he didn’t move closer either. Instead, he lifted up one hand and clenched his fist. Despite having more fingers than a human, his fists were about the same size as an adult human male’s would be, and the clenching caused the muscles in his forearm to move and tighten. The tightening shifted up his arm to his bicep, and the muscles sharp definition was clear even under several inches of thick fur. Menderash’s main eyes widened just a fraction and the stalk eye looking at Mertil’s arm snapped up to Mertil’s face instead.

Mertil had a smug look on his face, and Menderash’s hearts sped up a touch. Menderash stepped back a bit, schooling his expression away from “openly admiring Mertil’s biceps” and more towards “toying with his friend.”

<So, Mertil, lets see what your studies have wrought. Show me.>

Mertil made a very human-looking shrug and moved towards the entrance of his scoop, and Menderash followed.

~~~

They stood about a meter apart. Menderash stood in the typical stance for tail-fighting: weight on the back legs, front legs slightly bent, hands up and around shoulder height. His tail formed a long semi-circle, and his tail blade hovered several meters above his hind-quarters.

Mertil’s stance was slightly different. His torso was turned slightly to the right, his left hand in front of his right. His lower body was in a similar position to Menderash, though the other Andalite noted that Mertil’s weight was shifted to his right side a bit more. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he knew from Mertil’s bio that he was left-oriented.

Mertil’s stalk eyes started quickly moving about, trying to get around Menderash’s moving hands and flaring ears to keep line-of-sight to Menderash’s tail mount. Menderash’s hands darted in fast, sharp movements, doing an excellent job of predicting where Mertil’s eye stalks were going to move.

When Menderash felt sure that he was keeping Mertil’s eye stalks moving, he snapped into motion, tail mount bouncing down before launching forward. Menderash twisted his torso to the side and his tail shot in under his raised left arm in a strike aimed at Mertil’s torso.

But Mertil was already moving. While he hadn’t been able to see Menderash’s tail mount completely, he’d recognized the tiniest shift of weight and saw the beginnings of Menderash’s torso turn. Mertil shot to Menderash’s right while moving forward, stepping over one of Menderash’s front legs with the motion. His hooves touched down and his weight seemed to ripple from his rear right leg, through his hind-quarters and to his left front leg. At the same time, his torso turned sharply and his left fist flashed out and struck the bottom-most of Menderash’s ribs. Menderash made a loud huff as the impact drew the breath from his lungs, and he pulled his missed strike back into a ready position. Before Mertil’s right fist came around, this time aimed at Menderash’s face, Menderash had shifted his weight back and kicked off the ground, bouncing several meters away.

Mertil returned to his ready stance, making no move to get in closer while Menderash kept both stalk eyes on the older Andalite. His main eyes shifted down to his side, and he touched the place that Mertil had struck him, wincing at the tender flesh. That was going to bruise if he didn’t morph it away.

Menderash looked back up at Mertil, then broke into a wide smile that sent shivers down Mertil’s body, from the tips of his stalk eyes to the end of his stump. Menderash laughed and charged back in, rushing Mertil and lashing at him several times in quick succession.

Mertil ducked under the first sideways swipe of the tail blade, then had to bend his torso almost parallel with his hind-quarter’s spine while scooting backwards to avoid the blade the second time. He put a bit of distance between him and Menderash, but this proved a poor decision.

Menderash took no chances. His long tail brought about a number of problems for _The Intrepid’s_ first officer, but the impressive reach and control he had made him a dangerous opponent. Keeping Mertil away from him while continuing to attack meant Mertil couldn’t hop inside his guard and attack.

Mertil dodged most of Menderash’s attacks, but a few blows got turned into _t_ _orfs_ and the older Andalite got a few bruises of his own. After a flurry of strikes that went on for almost a full minute, Mertil decided he had to make an opening for himself or he’d never get one.

Menderash came in with another sideways slash aimed at the right side of Mertil’s head. The strike was slightly slower than most of Menderash’s other blows, and Mertil intercepted the tail blade by stepping into the strike and used his hands to turn Menderash’s tail blade. Mertil pushed down on the blade tip with one hand and grabbed the back of Menderash’s blade trunk with the other, pulling it up. The sharp twisting of his trunk made Menderash wince in pain, and Mertil made a similar sound when the rapidly moving tail smashed into his chest and he nicked his hand on the sharp point of Menderash’s blade. However, he was used to such impacts and a little blood never stopped him in a fight before, so he lashed out with his left hand. He stepped in with his left front leg, his hand curled into a fist and the sudden rotation of his body and forward movement smashed the side of his fist against Menderash’s head.

Menderash was stunned by the blow, and instead of trying to right his blade and use it to attack Mertil he instead reflexively brought it back. This gave Mertil enough time to step in, shifting his weight again and landing another powerful punch on Mertil’s ribcage, this time on the other side. The hard impact, combined with his daze from the first strike was a bit more than he expected, and he fell to his front knees. Mertil hopped backwards, out of range of Menderash’s tail if he did manage to collect his wits enough to strike again.

Menderash took a moment to catch his breath then get back to his feet. He stared intently at Mertil, his expression, body language, and emotional aura an unreadable mix of different feelings. Mertil thought he saw touches of excitement and amusement mixed in with the surprise and pain, and another emotion that he couldn’t quite define. For some reason, it warmed his hearts but also scared him a little, and Mertil’s guard lifted a bit higher in preparation for an onslaught of strikes.

He was not disappointed.

~~~

Mertil landed few hits after that. Menderash fought circles around him, literally most of the time, and reminded Mertil of everything he was going to need to work on if he was going to be able to defend himself properly. In reality, he’d need armor and a blade of his own to fight off a trained Andalite or Hork Bajir, but despite the dozens of bruises that he would have (in addition to the ones from his training earlier in the day), it was some of the most fun he’d had in months. They sparred for several hours before both Andalites were too tired to keep going, then went for a light run.

As they ran, Mertil gave Menderash the full details of his “assignment.”

<So Aximili _and_ Forlay thought this was a good idea? > Menderash mused. The duo hopped over a felled log and Menderash pulled his tail down lower so it wouldn’t catch on the branches of the trees they were running through.

<Yes. If _vecols_ can fight as well as any Andalite in the military, then that’s one barrier we can tear down. Aximili was the one who mentioned to me the vast arrays of human fighting styles. >

<But why here? No one in Santa Barbara would take you?>

Mertil snorted and, mid-jump, shifted his haunches to smack against Menderash’s. The sudden impact upset the smaller Andalite’s balance, and his landing was a touch clumsier than usual. Mertil pulled ahead, pushing his tired body into a short sprint and forced Menderash to catch up.

<Actually, of all the fighting styles humans have created, very few of them are applicable to an Andalite. They are designed for bipedal humans. It really is quite fascinating how many different ways they can find to stand up. _Wing Chun_ and _Jeet Kun Do_ are a bit less stringent in how they use their lower bodies, and the latter has a lot of flexibility in how it is learned and taught. The most prominent _Jeet Kun Do_ school is here, in Seattle. It is where the founder created it thirty nine earth years ago. >

<It seems to be working out well. Those… what did you call them?>

<Punches.>

<Yes, those punches hurt. A lot.>

<Your tail blade hurts more.>

<Of course it does. Tail blades are far superior for fighting.> Menderash slipped into a tone of voice that was openly mocking of the thought patterns of one of the Peace Front’s staunchest foes. The two shared a chuckle at that, and Menderash pulled ahead of Mertil. The two raced through the woods and worked their way back to Mertil’s scoop. They thoroughly mocked a number of the Peace Front’s opponents, both in the military and out, and caught up with one another completely. By the time they got back, the sun had long since dropped down and one of the last showers of the season began.

Once under the cover of the scoop, Mertil activated the force field at the entrance and turned on the small heating unit he kept inside to help them dry out in the cool air. He kicked on a tap, creating a small pool of clear water for the two to drink from, then moved over to a counter near his work station. Menderash drank from the pool while Mertil moved around, staying out of the way. His main eyes watched the rain come down outside while a stalk followed the other Andalite.

Menderash recognized the blender when Mertil placed it on the counter, and correctly guessed Mertil was making some sort of nutrient mush for him to eat after their workout.

<You’re putting a lot into this project, aren’t you Mertil?>

Mertil made a slight chuffing sound and bobbed his eyestalks, the Andalite’s approximation of a nod.

<I didn’t think it possible to fight again. I was a competent tail-blade fighter in the Academy, but my focus had always been on flight. I always rightly assumed I would spend all of my combat time in a ship. My AMTF scores were as high as they were for the same reason Gafinilan’s flight scores were: he helped me.>

Menderash shifted focus, main eyes moving to Mertil while one stalk eye turned to the rain and the other watched Mertil piling numerous earth fruits and vegetables into the blender, then started dropping in a few _Norrin_ flowers. Menderash didn’t know how Mertil had gotten the protein-rich flowers, but he didn’t care to ask. Menderash recognized the particular combination of expression and body language that Mertil affected only when he was thinking of Gafinilan.

Mertil thought about his sparring matches with Gafinilan, how they were almost like dancing. Between their bond and knowing each other so completely, they hadn’t been able to surprise one another since childhood. Sparring matches were almost always a simple exercise between the two of them. Just as Gafinilan had flown better with Mertil nearby, Mertil had fought better with Gafinilan at his side. After a moment of silence, Mertil’s recollections shifted to his more recent fight, and he felt a surge of adrenaline and excitement. Not knowing had been fascinating, and there was something about sparring with Menderash that had been far more enticing than any sparring match he’d had with anyone before.

<I’m not going to say that fighting makes me feel complete or anything like that,> Mertil continued, forcing his focus away from the image of Menderash looming over him, tail blade streaking in. He hit the button to process the concoction he was working on into a thick mush, then dumped the whole mixture onto the ground. He started tapping a hoof in it, slowly consuming the mixture. <Flight will always be the only activity I wax-poetic about. But feeling myself get stronger, learning that I can do things that I didn’t think possible, there’s something exhilarating about it.>

Menderash smirked a little and moved over, pawing at the mush that Mertil was eating. He wasn’t really interested in eating it, but it gave him an excuse to stand right in front of Mertil.

<There’s also something exhilarating about sparring with another Andalite, isn’t there?>

Mertil’s eyes widened, his ears flared, and his nostrils pulled shut, all at once. Menderash’s tone had been telling, and Mertil fought down his embarrassment and the urge to pull away from the blatant undertones of Menderash’s thought-speak.

Menderash seemed to delight in teasing Mertil with the promise of affection, then pulling away at the last minute. Mertil had always considered himself fluid, and Menderash was clearly the same. Their densities were different and they didn’t blend together perfectly, but Menderash seemed intent on whipping Mertil around into a swirl of emotion and then dripping his own colorful personality into the mix. Both of them liked to see what patterns the mixture made, but Menderash had never been quite that overt. If Menderash had been dripping before, then he’d just turned the tap on at full blast, and Mertil felt heat rising up inside in response.

Before Mertil could say anything, do anything, or respond in anyway, Menderash laughed, both via thought-speak and with the low snorting sound of a truly amused Andalite, and he stepped away from Mertil.

<I need to return to the ship. Prince Aximili will want a report, and he said there was a mandatory “Earth Culture Exploration” meeting in a few hours. If you need a sparring partner again, let me know.> He stopped at the edge of the force-field-protected entrance to the scoop before turning and looking at Mertil with all but one stalk eye. Menderash once again looked Mertil from hoof to stalk, then locked eyes with him.

<It was very… exciting.>

Menderash deactivated the force-field and disappeared into the rain, then reactivated it. The cold air washed into the scoop, but Mertil’s shiver had nothing to do with the cold.

**Author's Note:**

> [This is a mook yan jong.](http://cdn3.volusion.com/ckv9e.ymqc3/v/vspfiles/photos/Z-MYJ-EB17s-3.jpg?1428481788) The one in the fic has two legs instead of the one though, and a thing above it that is meant to look like an andalite tail blade
> 
> The school Mertil is training at is the Jun Fan Gung Fu Institute. It was founded by Bruce Lee in 1964


End file.
